


Confessions of a New Lover

by NovelistAngel23



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Memories, Non-Chronological, Porn with Feelings, Sylvain is a goddamn sap okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 08:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21296558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistAngel23/pseuds/NovelistAngel23
Summary: Sylvain wanted to give him everything. He just wasn’t any good at it.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 37
Kudos: 277





	Confessions of a New Lover

Ashe Ubert wasn’t nearly as goddamn shy as Sylvain once thought. He certainly wasn’t shy riding Sylvain’s dick with his head thrown back, pale skin bared so pretty, freckles like stars dotting the night sky. His hands were small against Sylvain’s tanned chest, but his nails dug in hard enough to leave little crescent moons behind, and Sylvain adored the sting of it. How long had it taken him to get Ashe to this point?

Started with little things, sneaky kisses in the stables, after the Professor put them on stable duty together. Ashe was so skittish around horses, until Sylvain laid his big palm over the back of his hand and told him he was more than safe with him. He was reluctant back then every time they kissed, his lips trembling, his hands shy. On Sylvain’s chest like now, petting the smooth, cold surface of his breastplate.

Sylvain gasped when Ashe dropped down hard on him, crying out his name. “F-feeling close?” he asked, and when Ashe whimpered and nodded, teary eyes shut tight, Sylvain flipped them over.

Ashe blinked his eyes open from where his head lay amongst the pillows, staring up at Sylvain with a dazed and starry expression. His eyes used to be so wide and cute, but he’d grown into them so fast. Sylvain still remembered the first time he saw Ashe all grown up, first saw how handsome he'd become over the years.

Five years after the fall of Garreg Mach, standing before the monastery with all of his old friends standing around him. And Ashe. Standing closest to Dimitri, his pretty green eyes filled with tears. He looked across the courtyard, and their eyes met, and Sylvain had always… he’d always known he was pretty. But now he was handsome and vulnerable, and when their eyes met…

Sylvain pushed back into Ashe, slow so he could feel it, and the way Ashe arched underneath him,  _ Goddess _ . Sylvain leaned down and kissed down his throat, sucking a mark at the place where his neck met his shoulder, just where Ashe’s collar could hide it. Ashe writhed, his slender legs wrapping around Sylvain’s waist, his hands tangling in his hair. Sylvain smiled against the little bruise he’d left, licked at it as he started to roll his hips again. No one else would be able to see it there, and Sylvain knew Ashe preferred it that way.

_ We should keep it secret _ , he'd whispered once. He wouldn’t look at Sylvain. His eyes were pointedly trained on the floor.  _ I’m not… _

_ Like anyone I’ve ever dated before _ .

And when Ashe looked up at him in surprise, Sylvain had to kiss him. Had to take his face in his hands, had to show him. He’d never dated anyone like Ashe, who didn’t care about his crest, someone who was more afraid of it than jealous.

_ Sylvain _ , he breathed between kisses.  _ I’m not… I’m not nobility like you are… We can’t-- _

_ When have I ever cared about that? _

“Sylvain!” Ashe pleaded as Sylvain took his hip in one hand and moved his hips harder. His hands slid down Sylvain’s arms, squeezing the muscles that strained as Sylvain held himself up over him. His thumb brushed a scar over his bicep, surprisingly gentle. Sylvain leaned down and captured his mouth in a kiss, swallowing his moans.

Ashe was always so… so gentle. He remembered the first time he slid off his shirt in front of Ashe, it wasn’t even sexy (though he’d absolutely been showing off, he was always showing off). They’d been caught in the rain coming home from a scouting mission, and sitting in their makeshift shelter, fire going between them, he’d decided it was better to strip than sit in rain-soaked clothes.  _ Don’t wanna catch a cold _ , he laughed, but Ashe was staring at his chest.  _ Like what you see? _

_ You have so many scars. _

He’d never thought about it. Thought about them. Sometimes, when you fucked up, got hurt too far from a healer, sometimes it scarred before it could be healed. They were littered all over his abdomen, the remains of fighting on the front lines, of overestimating the speed of his horse, the distance of his enemies.

He looked down at them, suddenly self conscious. Did Ashe think they were gross or something? He still hadn’t… admitted how he felt to Ashe. This was before they’d ever kissed, before they’d ever touched.

But then Ashe crawled towards him. Put his hand over his heart. His palm was so warm against Sylvain’s rain-chilled skin. And anyone else, he would have thought to say something suggestive. He would have teased, asked if they were coming onto him. Might have pushed it. But Ashe. Ashe…

Ashe’s touch was so gentle, tracing over the scar on his chest, finding another scar across his collarbone. As his gentle fingertips skittered across each one, he whispered,  _ I’ll be there next time. I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. _

Ashe had lost so much. Sylvain didn’t really know what loss felt like. He thought he did, but it ached in a strange way. Like he wasn’t allowed to say he’d lost anything. Miklan was a shitty fucking brother. But Sylvain been the one to kill him, and that hurt. And he wasn’t Glenn’s brother, he wasn’t King Lambert’s son. Even if he felt their loss like they were his family.

Ashe had lost everything, twice. And somehow the thought that Ashe didn’t want to lose him was too much.

When Sylvain cried that night, Ashe held him close, petted his hair.  _ It’s okay. I promise you’re safe. _

“Y-you’re crying,” Ashe panted underneath him.

Sylvain blinked down at him, and one of his tears dripped down onto Ashe’s cheek. Ashe’s eyes widened at the same time Sylvain’s did. He hurried to wipe it away, but Ashe caught his hand. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

He leaned up to press a gentle kiss to Sylvain’s lips. His hands both went to Sylvain’s face, wiping away the tears as they fell. “It’s okay…” he insisted, even though Sylvain’s lips were trembling, even though his grip on Ashe’s hip became bruising.

Sylvain didn’t usually cry during sex. Maybe teared up a little, but that was only because Ashe was surprisingly insatiable. The first time though, he'd cried like a bitch… he wondered if that really counted.

He’d just been so fucking nervous. Kept dropping the bottle of oil, asked Ashe over and over if he was sure, if this wasn’t a mistake.  _ It hurts sometimes. The first time, I mean. I’m gonna be careful, but it might hurt. _

And Ashe caught his face in his hands, just the same as now, pressed their lips together just the same as they moved against Sylvain’s now. A lot less naked back then, maybe, but just as vulnerable and just as sure.  _ What are you really worried about? _

_ Hurting you. _

_ Physically? _

_ Maybe not. _

Sylvain was so used to  _ hurting _ people, who was to say he wouldn't do it to Ashe too? Ashe knew his sordid history, his reputation.

But Ashe didn’t care. About before. Every person he’d fucked, and every heart he’d broken, every mistake he’d made, and every one of his many failures. He didn’t care about the bitterness in the center of Sylvain’s heart, like the rotten core of a wormy apple. He didn’t care that sometimes Sylvain got so angry, so angry he broke things. He didn’t care that Sylvain cried when he was happy, or that he had nightmares and woke up trembling, still feeling the cold of the dark wet well he’d sat in for hours, days, years.

He kissed him anyway. That first time he’d climbed into Sylvain’s lap and pushed him back against the pillows.  _ B-but it’s your first time, I should-- _

_ It’s okay, Sylvain.  _ And Ashe’s smile was so bright, like starlight.  _ This is your first time too. With me. And that’s special. _

“Do you want to stop?” Ashe whispered, his voice thick, and Sylvain shook his head. “Are you sure?”

Sylvain nodded, sniffled, wiped his tears. “I’m just being a sap,” he assured. Then he put his arms around Ashe’s waist and yanked him up, sat up to hold him in his lap. “You ready?”

Ashe giggled, his arms going around Sylvain’s neck. “F-feels bigger this way…” He bit his lip around a shy smile.

Sylvain grinned and took Ashe’s lower lip between his teeth, tugging it teasingly, until Ashe took the bait and kissed him deeply. Then he grabbed Ashe’s hips and pulled him up, moaned into his mouth as Ashe sank back down. They started a rhythm together, push and pull, take and give. Ashe was so good at taking, a talent Sylvain loved to remind him of, just to see him blush.

But deep down they both knew he was a giver. His heart and soul bared for anyone to take, and Sylvain took and took.

Sylvain wanted to give him everything. He just wasn’t any good at it. All of his careful masks, just to hide the blankness underneath. He didn’t know how to give what he didn’t think he had.

Ashe had broken him down slowly, made him accept that maybe there  _ was _ something in him to give, but still Sylvain could only bear to trade the cards he'd been born with. His inheritance, all the money and prestige he had as the heir of House Gautier. Ashe had grown up in poverty, and Sylvain had the means to ensure that never, ever happened again. That Ashe never again knew hunger or suffering. Sylvain wanted to give all of it to Ashe.

He’d thought about it before. Giving Ashe everything. He’d never told Ashe--and he wouldn't--but he planned on proposing to him once the war was all over.

He thought he knew just how Ashe’s eyes would well up with tears, just how Ashe would laugh in disbelief, just how Ashe would insist they couldn’t and melt in his embrace and say yes anyway. He thought he knew, but he still wanted to see it. He wanted to hear Ashe agree to spending the rest of his life with Sylvain.

Because Sylvain knew once life was over, he was going to end up in hell, probably land there right beside his brother, surrounded by the flames fueled by all of his sins. He was pretty sure he’d end up there one day, but Ashe was a strange kind of solace. Oh he’d go to hell, and he’d suffer it, but at least right now, at least with Ashe, at least here on earth, he knew how the stars felt against his bare skin.

Because Ashe was a star, or at least a shard of one, or at least the light of them personified, from his silvery hair to his soft pale skin to the smatters of stars across his shoulders. And Sylvain felt like he’d been blessed just being close to him.

Even if he ended up in hell, the goddess had deigned to gift him with something precious, with one of her own children, chosen to walk the earth amongst sinners like him.

“Oh!” Ashe gasped, his pretty pink lips parted as he hiccuped his moans. Sylvain kissed his cheek firmly, nipped along his jaw as Ashe tightened around him. “Ah, S-Syl--Sylvie, I-I’m--”

“It’s okay,” Sylvain panted. “It’s okay, let go, it’s--you’re okay--”

Ashe held him tighter, his hips stuttering. Sylvain felt the sting of his nails digging into his back. He knew he already had scrapes all down it, the only wounds he didn’t want healed, the only ones Ashe blushed when he touched.  _ I d-didn’t mean to hurt you… _

_ It doesn’t hurt. _ Sylvain kissed his knuckles, kissed his fingertips.  _ I love them. _

“I-I love you!” Ashe cried, his breath hot on Sylvain’s skin as he buried his face in his shoulder. He pressed his hips down hard, burying Sylvain inside of him, his whole body going tense.

Sylvain held him tight, his thighs trembling, so close to coming, but too busy soothing Ashe through his orgasm to care. He turned his head, pressed his nose against Ashe’s soft, sweat-curled hair. “I know,” he panted, “Oh, I know, I know.”

_ I love you. _

It’d been an accident, the first time Ashe said it, at least Sylvain was pretty sure. He was falling asleep. It’d been a long, hard battle. They were sitting curled up together in the back of the wagon taking them back to the monastery, and everyone else was passed out in various uncomfortable positions, too tired to notice Ashe curled up in Sylvain’s lap.  _ I love you _ , Ashe mumbled against Sylvain’s chest, and Sylvain tensed up in shock.

Ashe lifted his head, looking up at him, and Sylvain saw it all there. The confusion. Surprise. Uncertainty. Years ago, before the war, when they were just students, he wouldn’t have fallen for someone like Sylvain. He wouldn’t have loved a philanderer, someone who didn’t take anything seriously. Oh, sure, he’d said he saw something good in him, they fought well together, they weren’t  _ enemies _ .

But war had changed them both. Maybe that was why, after he said it, he added,  _ I mean it. _ Just to be sure that Sylvain didn’t laugh or roll his eyes or wave it off.

Sylvain still hadn’t said it back.

He wanted to, Goddess, he wanted to. Especially now, as Ashe rose up on his knees so Sylvain slipped out of him, and then wrapped his hand around his length. Stroking him fast and messy, kissing him sloppy, smiling too wide to really deepen it. Sylvain wanted to tell him how much he adored his pretty face, his gentle hands, his laugh that sounded like home.

He held Ashe’s jaw in one hand, shaking, pressed their foreheads together. “Fuck,” he gasped, moaning when Ashe squeezed him. He wanted to  _ say  _ it, wanted to run through the monastery screaming it, that he loved Ashe, he loved him.

Ashe pecked his lips and said, “D-does it feel good?” As if he didn’t know, as if he was still shy after all they’d been through together.

But Sylvain still nodded, breathless, still cursed when the pleasure became too much and he came over Ashe’s hand. Ashe laughed, lifting his hand to lick the come off his knuckles, and Sylvain cursed again. He grabbed Ashe’s face and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss. “I…” he choked, but then he shook his head and just kissed him again.

He didn’t say any more. He’d never said those words and meant it. He wanted to mean it, when he said them to Ashe. He was through with breaking hearts. He wanted to heal Ashe the way Ashe had healed him. Oh there were scars, so many scars, but Ashe had made it to him.

Across the front lines, racing after him, hand outstretched. No matter how far Sylvain ran, no matter how deeply he hid behind all those walls, Ashe walked through them as if they were water. Like that night in the tent, crawling right up to him without any fear or shame.

Ashe hummed into their kiss, and when he pulled away, he cooed, “Don’t cry.”

Sylvain nodded, feeling the tears drip down. “Sorry,” he breathed.

Ashe shook his head, moved onto his knees to kiss the tears as they came. “No apologies,” he admonished. “Just lay down. Want me to get you some tea?”

Sylvain laid down like Ashe asked, but when Ashe moved to leave, he grabbed his wrist. He pulled him down against his chest, buried his face in his soft, damp hair. “‘M gonna say it,” he mumbled.

Ashe rested his cheek against his chest, pressed his hand to the other side, over his still pounding heart. “Say what?”

“That I…” Sylvain looked up at the ceiling over Ashe’s head. Petting his hair. “You know.”

Ashe hummed, the sound vibrating against Sylvain’s chest, through it, rattling around his ribcage. His heart felt like a bird. “You don’t have to. Not until you’re ready.”

“You’re too good for someone like me.”

Ashe sat up at that, leaning over Sylvain and looking down into his eyes. How were Ashe's so pretty? Like precious stones. Like jade. Sylvain smiled. “You and I are both good,” Ashe insisted, furrowing his brow. “Sylvain, you’re a good person. You’ve always been. Sometimes you make mistakes, but I’ve made them too--”

“Stealing on the streets to survive and protect your family is a little less bad than hurting people just because you can,” Sylvain said, still smiling like some punch-drunk fool.

Ashe blinked at him, then sighed deeply. He petted Sylvain’s hair back from his face, gaze focusing on the movement of his hand. “The past is in the past,” he whispered. “I’m not going to judge you for it. You shouldn’t judge yourself so harshly either.”

“I could say the same to you.”

Ashe smiled wryly, then met his eyes again. “Are we at an impasse?”

Sylvain nodded. Ashe kissed him. Sylvain closed his eyes and felt every moment of it. Remembered the first time they kissed, Sylvain pressing Ashe against a wall, in the dim candlelight of the library, the book Ashe had been reading to him draped across his back. The way Ashe’s lips trembled as they pulled apart.  _ I didn’t… I didn’t know you… _

_ Liked guys? _

_ Liked me. _

_ Oh. Well… I do. _

Ashe pulled away with a hum, then settled down against him, cheek against his shoulder. “Okay, well I’m sleepy,” he giggled, and Sylvain wrapped his arms around his slight waist. “Goodnight?”

“Goodnight,” Sylvain breathed, kissing his forehead. But as Ashe slept, he watched his face. Thought about his jade eyes and how one day--one day after Enbarr fell and the war was over and they were safe--he was going to propose to him with a ring made of jade.

And he’d tell him that he loved him.

He’d give him everything.

Everything he had.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it terribly gauche of me to post this immediately after posting something yesterday? XD I heard True Colors by The Weeknd and holy shit. It's so SylvAshe. I couldn't help writing something!
> 
> If you like this, please leave comments and kudos, I appreciate each and every one <3 You can find me on twitter @novelistangel23 if you have any questions or just wanna hit me up about FE3H~ Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!


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